


Third Generation

by Philosophizes



Series: Bad Decisions Series Backstory Fics [14]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adults, Children, F/M, Humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosophizes/pseuds/Philosophizes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia is called out of his office for the birth of his grandson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third Generation

There was a knock on the door.  
  
“Mr. Braginski?” Russia’s secretary asked, poking his head into the room. “Your son just called.”  
  
Ivan looked up.  
  
“Eh?”  
  
“He says that Sofya is in the hospital, sir-”  
  
Ivan jumped out of his chair.  
  
“What? Where? When?”  
  
“Um- downtown, sir; I don’t know how long they’ve been there but he just called-”  
  
“Cancel everything,” Russia said abruptly, quickly grabbing his wallet and stuffing it into his pocket.  
  
“But sir, the British-”  
  
“Just tell England that it is Sofya. He will understand, yes? And if not, I will make him understand.”  
  
Aleksandr got out of the way quickly as he could and watched his boss sprint down the hallway towards the exit.

* * *

It wasn’t until Ivan reached the sidewalk that he realized he had no idea what hospital his son and daughter-in-law were in.  
  
He fumbled for his phone and slowed to a fast walk, and the people on the sidewalk moved aside to avoid him.  
  
His thumb managed the speed dial and the call was picked up immediately.  
  
“We’re on Kashirskoye, Vanya.”  
  
Ivan smiled widely.  
  
“Abby! How long-”  
  
“The doctors said that Sofya’s almost done, honey. Didn’t want to stress you out, so I told Ana not to call until just now.”  
  
“But Abby!” he protested as he picked up his speed. It would take barely two minutes for him to get to Kashirskoye, if he handled the pace at which he bent distances properly. It was no good going straight to the hospital- his children would see him vanish and panic! He couldn’t worry his children!  
  
“No buts! The doctors get nervous when you’re around, and I _won’t_ have nervous doctors near my daughter-in-law!”  
  
“I am coming inside the hospital now,” he told his wife.  
  
“Pick up a bottled water or something, poor Ana’s got himself completely worked up. Kisses.”  
  
There was the sound of a kiss being blown and the call ended.  
  
Russia spent a harrowing two minutes trying to get the vending machine to work and then dashed up the service staircase to the room he could feel his family waiting outside of.  
  
“ _Dad!_ ” his son cried in relief. He looked like he’d been called out of the middle of one of his fashion shoots- the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his thick-rimmed glasses were halfway down his nose, but what did he know about fashion? It could be in style! “I was going to call you before you left for work but Mom said I shouldn’t bother you because you’d just worry and make everyone nervous, and that wouldn't be good for the government!”  
  
Ivan caught him up in a bear hug.  
  
“Ah, Anatoli, I do not blame you a bit. Your mother is American. Americans are very stubborn.”  
  
“Of course we are,” his –middle-aged, and completely human- wife said, standing. “Now come give _me_ a hug, you big lug.”  
  
He let Anatoli go and wrapped his arms around Abigail gently.  
  
She smacked his shoulder.  
  
“I know you can do better than that. C’mon, really _squeeze._ ”  
  
“But what if you get crushed?” Ivan asked, but did it anyway.  
  
Abby snorted.  
  
“Pah. You’ve been alive long enough to know your own strength. I trust you not to crush me.”  
  
Russia sighed happily and put his wife down.  
  
Someone cleared their throat.  
  
“Mr. Braginski? Your wife’s done.”  
  
Ana whirled around and dashed past the doctor into the room.  
  
Ivan took his wife’s arm and escorted her towards the door.  
  
“Hhm... _Pyotr?_ ”  
  
The doctor flinched slightly.  
  
“Yes, Mr. Russia?”  
  
“Sofya is healthy, yes? And the baby? _Safe?_ My little Ana will not be sad when he talks to his darling, _will he?_ ”  
  
“N- No, sir. They’re both completely fine. _Completely absolutely perfect!_ ”  
  
“Oh good!” Ivan said, and gave into his wife’s tugging on his arm.

* * *

Anatoli was standing in the room, looking slightly lost, when his parents walked in.  
  
“Where is the baby?” Ivan asked curiously.  
  
Abby shook her head slightly.  
  
“They had to take him off to get weighed and measured and things, Vanya- you remember how it was with Ana.”  
  
“They still do that?”  
  
“Of _course_ they still do that.”  
  
“But why? His family is here! We want to see him!”  
  
“Do I _look_ like a doctor?”  
  
Ivan tilted his head slightly.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
His son made frantic shushing motions.  
  
“Sofya’s _sleeping!_ ” he said quietly. “She’s been in here since eight this morning! Don’t wake her up!”  
  
“We will be quiet now!”  
  
He looked doubtfully at the cushioned chair over by the window and decided to let Abigail take it. Anatoli had sat down in the only other seat in the room, right next to his young wife’s bed, but he had endured worse things than standing for long periods of time.

As it turned out, there wasn’t much waiting after all.  
  
Russia could feel the nurse coming down the hall with something that stood out in his senses as a little bright ball of-   
  
-of-  
  
-well, whatever made humans people, probably.  
  
He slipped out the door without anyone noticing and _loomed._  
  
The nurse faltered a little, but seemed determined not show it.  
  
Ivan spotted the little bundle of life in her arms and felt his breath catch.  
  
“That is my grandson?”  
  
The nurse checked the room number, and then looked warily at him.  
  
“If that’s your family in there-”  
  
He held his arms out, and took his grandson from her.  
  
“He’s asleep,” the nurse tried to tell him, but he ignored her in favor of cooing over the baby he now held.  
  
“Yakov,” he whispered, remembering the name his son and daughter-in-law had decided on. “My little darling Yasha. How precious you are.”


End file.
